There is a quote from Mel Brooks that I’ve always adored: “If you want to take power away from something, laugh at it.” A stunning statement coming from a Jewish-raised man who served in World War II, and his humor often reflected that background. Many of his movies portray Hilter and The Third Reich as comical, foppish, and foolish. There is an entire musical in The Producers dedicated to mocking Nazis, which goes on to be a smash hit with the audience in movie (much to the chagrin of the main characters). “Springtime for Hitler” doesn’t ignore the darkness inside World War II (“Winter for Poland and France”, so the lyrics go), but undercuts real evil with a heaping of ridiculousness.

Brooks has made it his life’s mission to make light, whether it be pop culture, overused tropes, and more touchy subjects like racism and war. His movies have shown that he’s not the only one who enjoys the laugh, given their importance in American cinema and comedy. Not all parody need be like the Scary Movie franchises; the art of parody goes well beyond Brooks, reaching into novels, plays, and every weekly sketch show in existence.

And then, well beyond the absurd: Jane Austen’s Northanger Abbey was written as a satire of late 18th century Gothic fiction, many of Shakespeare’s plays poked fun at romance tropes and popular characters from his era’s England. But surely, says the general public, we aren’t supposed to make fun of Austen and Shakespeare. They were serious writers and respectable in the world of literature. How dare someone write a modern text version of Romeo and Juliet, or Pride & Prejudice with zombies!

And I will tell you, general public, that you should probably read a few of those Shakespeare plays one more time. You’ve overlooked all the raunchy jokes and clever cultural references. And after all, who said humor can’t be literary? Who ever said that comedy can’t be part of intelligence? It’s easy to throw satire into the ring of low brow, but being funny requires a little more than a good punchline.

I grew up with Monty Python’s Flying Circus reruns, a series more well-attuned to British humor than American. And while it has its share of silliness, their comedy always came with a wink and a tongue firmly placed in cheek. The movie Monty Python & The Holy Grail is a brilliant example of this, an Arthurian legend parody on its surface with a ton of political and historical comedy peppered along the way. While there are plenty of quotable parts from the film, my favorite scene is still the witch trial.

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Not only is this still really funny and well-paced, this joke actually has historical context! Tried witches in Europe used to be tossed in ponds and rivers to see if they floated- which is dark and absurd to consider now. There are layers of humor here, from the silly and down into something more cultural and well-researched. The movie just takes life’s true absurdity a step further, revealing it for its ridiculousness and paranoia.
And maybe that’s the core of satire and parody: a means to honesty through the abstract and comical. The world we inhabit is harsh sometimes, just as it is strange and nonsensical.
We use comedy as a reflection from which the world feels a little lighter. Political climates can feel smothering, people grossly negative, and the daily grind crushing. Is it any wonder people turn to The Daily Show or Saturday Night Live at the end of the day? We want comedy to undercut the world’s seriousness. Sometimes, we need to laugh, to take the power back.

​Going through all of Stephen King’s works sounds like a beastly task, but it’s also an insightful one. King is the modern master of horror for a reason, tapping into every ghost, ghoul, and inner fear his audience would rather hide. Some of his most telling work though, is about the persona behind the pen. The Shining, Misery, and the novella, Secret Window, Secret Garden, all deal with authorly protagonists. Jack Torrance, an troubled aspiring author and alcoholic whose personal demons, hotel ghosts, and artistic failures all drive him to kill. And Paul Sheldon, a mild-mannered, famous author who finds himself held captive by his biggest fan, forced to revive a popular series he has decided to end.

Misery is the sort of book every writer’s group makes jokes about as an “author’s worst nightmare.” Annie Wilkes is the monster that destroys manuscripts, fuels co-dependency, and chops off fingers (don’t lie- you know you flinched). But King tapped into something far more terrifying with Mort Rainey.

In Secret Garden, Secret Window (better known for Secret Window, a 2004 film adaptation with Johnny Depp as the lead), Mort Rainey comes into conflict with John Shooter, an unstable stranger that has plagiarized his latest story- all but its ending anyway.

Several arson cases and violent deaths later, Mort realizes (and spoilers here, so be warned) that there was never any John Shooter at all. Mort is John Shooter, a character so powerful that he has become part of Mort’s personality. While the movie and novella end on different notes (somewhat creepy when you consider the plot), the message retains its prowess. Sometimes our monsters aren’t disturbed fans or old spirits; sometimes the author is the monster.

This has a rocky history of playing itself out in real life. Creative folk get a rep for being weird at best, and deviant or disturbed at worst. They are statistically more inclined to depression and anxiety, drawn heavily to drugs and drinking (all of King’s authors had problems with drug abuse and/or alcoholism, notably), and usually do not fit in to what we might call “normal.” What we seek and do is very lonely at times, and this lifestyle is not a path most desire to tread.

I have a vivid memory of the first time I got in a fight with a professor: after a classmate’s sobering presentation on young musicians, mental illness, and suicide, she dared to call me out and ask why “all artists are depressed freaks? That means you’re a freak too, right?”

I shot up in my seat at once. “Yes, and I’m proud of that.”

I’ve reflected on this incident since, wondering about this “depressed freak” stereotype and how much truth exists in its shadow. Writers are only people, after all; we have the potential to be bullies to reviewers, terrors to our family, and destructive forces on ourselves. There are writers from the past, whose choices reflect racial and social beliefs that shock a modern audience. Several people have even made a career of writing about their crimes, turning horrors into art. They are social outcasts like Wilde, or dark cultish personalities like Hubbard. King himself has a notorious reputation from taking out his rage on the man who accidentally hit him with a car. He was destroyed as a character in King’s fiction, and legally ruined in real life. His reputation didn’t recover before his early death.

Authors aren’t always good people, probably because they are people in the first place. No matter how idealized and golden their created worlds may be. Does that mean a story get take on the judgement that we cast on the author? Depends on the reader, I suppose, but I would much rather let a story stand outside of an author’s shadow- as much as it possibly can anyway.

We are imposing strange creatures at times, but we all write to express a certain secret honesty out into the world. Whether that truth gives away of our inner darkness away really comes down to the author, and whether the reader wants to know said author quite so intimately.

Interestingly enough, the statistical number of fiction authors who are real-life killers is quite low compared to King’s characters. Studies have shown though that psychopathy and a lack of empathy isn’t commonly connected with artistic traits. Indeed, most serial killer authors tend to write more about themselves than anyone else. ​It begs the question though- why writers choose to portray other fictional writers as monsters? What kind of “freak” do we see when we create, and are we scared of it too?

If I were going to rank writing-related questions from least to greatest, “how do I beat writer’s block?” probably falls quite high on the list, if not at number one. When I worked as a small publisher’s community manager, this question would show up at least twice a week- on forums, discussion posts, and Q&As with other published authors. The responses were varied and usually stale in quality: the same “take a walk, listen to fresh music, write something else”- and that’s not to say that these things can’t stop Writer’s Block, because they can for some people. But it’s often occurred to me that, for a question that gets asked so much, there are very few solid answers as to how you actually stop Writer’s Block. There is nothing more frustrating when you are applying all of the fixes and they just don’t work. Que the spiral of despair as you stare down that ever-blinking cursor.

But if Writer’s Block is an ailment, we shouldn’t be searching for the cure; we should find the cause. The same logic applies if you spike a fever; cause might say you have cold, but WebMD will convince you that you’re probably dying of gangrene. So, let’s talk about a few distinct types of Writer’s Block and what they do to the writing process.*

*(to me, personally. Full disclaimer here, because the most important thing to understand about Writer’s Block is how, just like writing habits, its causes are very unique to the author.)

Starting-Point Stage Fright:

Usually right before or at the beginning of every novel. Symptoms include procrastination, excessive research, and lots of deleted opening paragraphs.

There’s a really great quote by Gene Wolfe, which goes, “You never learn how to write a novel … you only learn to write the novel you’re on.” This was said to Neil Gaiman (yeah, that Gaiman), who finally felt he had this novel thing down after writing American Gods.I’m now three novels into my writing career, with two more on my plate for this year. Each one of them starts with the sensation of groping around a pitch-black room with only my rough outline and a half functional flashlight. There are things in this room that I want (and probably better batteries for my flashlight), but I need to get my bearings first. It usually takes me about 15,000 words to do this, and it’s easy to mistake this sensation for a “lack of inspiration.” I encourage you to bury the concept of inspiration somewhere deep for now. Inspiration isn’t magical fully-fleshed out concepts; inspiration is what we do when we find those fresh batteries and get a clearer picture of our space. “Press forward to those 15,000,” I remind myself. It always pays off and I always manage to find those batteries eventually, even if it takes a few tries.

The Middle of Despair:

Named so for its location, as the middle of books are notorious for being mind-numbingly hard to write. Symptoms will include plotting ending scenes you have not yet written, social media browsing, and crippling self-doubt. Welcome to the void of the writing process. You got this.

Not everyone has problems writing their novel’s middle, but it’s often noted as a rough part of first drafts and rewrites. We tend to come into stories with a general idea of the plot’s cause and effect: the beginning and middle, in more novel-related terms. It’s easy to get caught up in the sogginess of a middle and fall into a great deal of mood swing-y sadness. Writing must not be for you if you can’t even get through a simple section of the book.

But journeys aren’t about the destination, yes? And as Jeff VanderMeer says, when the reader enjoys an ending, they’re really saying they enjoyed the payoff to the well-structured middle of a novel. This quote helped me re-frame what middles were; the meat and potatoes of the story. Substance that keeps your reader around for the finale, rather than a sequence of events so you can get to the ending. Whenever I find myself trapped in the middle, I have to ask myself “how does this benefit the ending?” If it doesn’t, I cut and rework (even in a first draft, which something I would normally warn against). Listening to your gut about what isn’t working, and locating the strength in your middle, is usually one of the easiest ways to avoid its slog.

Revisionary Roadblocks:

Symptoms include starting new projects despite a lack of time, inelegant sobbing, and the return of that crippling self-doubt.You might think, once you have finished your first draft, you would be free of the Writer’s Block and its troubling patterns. Revision and rewriting should be easy now that you’ve finished the book, right?

Ah, the innocence.

Some of the worst roadblocks I have encountered in writing show up in the process of fixing the first draft; the scenes to reframe, plotlines to tighten, characters to build upon. Revision is harder than hell, since so many issues can show up during revisions that you don’t expect. The point of editing books is digging deeper; you must unearth the layers beneath the top soil that is your first draft, and you will find things you don’t like, things you must throw away and rework into oblivion. There will be scenes that you adore and no longer apply to your current vision. Your story will never again be the project you started, and it will never be perfect, and you get to accept that in all its artistic ugliness.I recently finished my editing on my first novel and am currently working on edits for the second. The act of pushing through your revision roadblocks- whatever they may be, is a matter of willpower, and moreover, about confidence. It requires trusting in your own abilities, recognizing your limits, and practicing over and over. It’s about being open to failure and critique, and learning from both for the future. These are all hard to stomach, and probably the reason most people don’t like editing. But revision separates the novice from the novelist, and humbling yourself to it is the best way forward. After all, we are often much stronger writers than we feel.

What’s your experience with Writer’s Block? Where do you get it during the writing process and how have you learned to address it?

Just a super quick update (because graduation and finals- yikes) to let everyone know that this summer, I will be representing the #ShoreIndie Contest as a Featured Author! I will be on Twitter between June 12-July 30 (a pinned-down date to come) to discuss writing, my blogs, and my experience with everyone, so have your questions ready and feel free to share to interested folk! The contest they are running is fantastic and very supportive of the indie community- so if you are interested, you can read more about them here! Please also check out the other featured authors; I am honored to be up there with so many talented writers!

​I’ll be honest and say that I’m supposed to be writing. Touching up the ending of a novel and setting the blocks for its sequels, in fact. But we’re having a plot disagreement at present, so I chose to devote my evening to a blog post instead. I’m returning to editing tomorrow; I always end up going back.

Books are like children in some ways, and so, creating them should be handled responsibly, and with the knowledge that you will be tending to its needs at all odd hours for quite a few more years. My last four years have been solely dedicated to the same two or three books, chipping away at drafts and tightening details with each new pass.“Why push through for that long?”, you might ask. Knowing when to complete a draft is tricky, after all. Some projects aren’t worth the effort. I’ve even often wondered if my persistence borders on wasteful and tactless.

There will be some stories that haunt you though, no matter what you’re writing. They tug at your hair and disturb you in the night. Ideas that crop up as scribbles on napkins, in the margins of homework. Those books? They are the ones that need telling.

But some stories haven’t been so fortunate. There are few truths in the lives of authors, other than death, taxes, lost data, and lots of abandoned writing. Every career is littered with unfinished ideas and unrealized plots. I spent much of my teen years composing stories via a notebook or my school laptop, all abandoned as I hopped from one story to the next. In fact, my current troublesome draft is the culmination of a few unfinished story ideas that I realized, quite amazingly, finished each other. The story I kept trying to tell was easier after I aged a few years. Even if it wasn’t the same general thing, it was still full of the same tropes, archetypes, and themes. I stopped throwing things away after I noticed.

Finishing a book came in waves; completing the first draft is huge, but completing the first revision is bigger. And just like writing styles, revision styles are wholly unique to the author. I know writers who work through second and third drafts with the complete guidance of beta readers. I know writers who guard their works jealously until they feel it worthy of sharing (whatever draft that might be). I suspect, from my own experience, that revision style is harder to pin down than anything else. Writing is such a natural creative expression, whereas revision means taking that methodical knife to your expression and knowing where to cut. Being a good editor and a good author aren’t always synonymous skills, and neither are easy-going.

So, can you lose a draft in these waves of completion? Absolutely. People have edited books to death, or lost the voice of a story in the noise of too many early readers. Or, honestly- in the disparagement of the author. Editing is harsh, messy, and full of obstacles; writing would be easier if plotlines just worked themselves out. Why write at all?

This all sounds very dreary, doesn’t it? I was originally heartbroken at the idea that a story could go sour, even after so much work and time. “Then,” I thought, “what’s the point of finishing at all? Why am I even doing this?”

Because of those stories that haunt you.

Effort has merit, and so does knowing when to release a story- whether that means focusing our efforts on the projects that matter or finally ending our persistent edits. We all reach a day when our book baby is all grown up and we can no longer predict what it will say to others, or where it will go, and who might read it. That’s okay.

This still makes most authors very anxious, and that’s okay too. You will have other stories to create, visit, and shape, and yes, more edits to weep over.​I’m still supposed to be writing, and have made a sport of actively avoiding it at this point. But I do always manage go back and finish something, which counts in my book. There are scores of abandoned things that I leave in my creative wake, but I am happier knowing we never fully abandon our stories; we just recreate and revisit when the time is right.

I was about 14 when I realized I enjoyed writing historical fiction. Then gawky, modestly full of angst, and just getting my sea legs with writing, I was fangirl of three things: comics, Fall Out Boy, and Pirates of The Caribbean. The last one was where I first found my voice in fanfic writing, curious to explore other characters and alternate universes after watching the movies and reading the spin-off novels so many times. The PoTC craze was bigger then, since the original trilogy had just finished, so pirate books were everywhere. Busy writing, I opted to snap up whatever I could to read more about the Golden Age of Piracy, and discovered how much more I liked that instead.

Clumsily, I started stitching up my Pirates stories with more historical accuracy and peppering them with historical figures like Blackbeard and Calico Jack. I dragged my family all the way to Galveston to visit the Elissa, one of the few functioning tall ships in the United States. I went find Jean Lafitte’s house by the harbor, then took all the details back to my writing. It actually paid off; I won my first writing award for the fanfic I composed with that research.

I really haven’t changed much as an adult, though my stories got more original and my adventures got bigger. Most importantly though, I’ve become a much better researcher. When I first started writing my current series around late 2012, I vanished back down the research rabbit hole, into the world of Gothic fiction, Victorian history, zombies, and Irish mythology. It was kind of a handful, but I was eager about that. I wrote a few very top-heavy rough drafts and spilled all my information into this book, the author equivalent of taking several buckets of paint and dumping their contents straight to the canvas. The result was potentially pretty, but needed… organizing, lest it turn into a mushy shade of gray. This is a big sin in historical fantasy, where the author has so much to share with the audience that the story can get lost in the details, and Dickens call-backs, and angles of possible historical accuracy (I’m looking at you, Cassandra Clare).

The good thing about being a writer is my paint isn’t permanent, so I can separate and remove colors as I need. This also meant narrowing down what kind of research I needed for the story in the first place. So, I spent a few more years on the book, removing layers and adding small flourishes of detail. Travelling to locations and buying new books whenever I could. I reminded myself that there were always new books to write, so- yes, even though it’s super interesting that they were still opening up the Jack the Ripper case in 1901, maybe I don’t need that detail so much right now.

Characters were cut and plotlines were tightened. I mourned over my darlings, but also celebrated that I made the book better. With the novel in its final stages and its novella out to the public, I am happier that I took the time to make sense of my strange Gothic, Irish zombie book and find what mattered in its history.

One thing about becoming a better researcher that I enjoy is how human it makes the past feel. Writers sometimes get so wound around their research, we lose sight of pirates or Victorians in a morass of quirky facts, morals, and behavioral guides. We forget that they were still people, and people don’t really change throughout history; we simply find new ways to do old things.

Keeping this in mind grounds the characters in their present day, which they don’t view under a glass of important authors, historical figures, and tourist-style visits to certain locations. It’s as alive to them as this day is for me, and even a modicum of this really saves the story from becoming an antiqued tribute to some forgotten era. ​I so think that should be the final goal of historical fiction, whether fantasy or more realistic. Researching means you get the blow the dust off of history; writing it requires you bring it to life for someone else. There is skill in becoming well-read historically, but there is magic in making that history real for the reader.

"Out it comes,The beast.Hands shake, pulses raceDread takes its course,wringing over and over.There is no water,And on we wring.Within,It rots.It stews,Becomes and fades,The ever-present pit,the ever-present wreck."

The above section is from a poem I penned in 2014, according to my computer. It was three in the morning, in the middle of summer, and I was having a panic attack. No particular reason, if I remember right. Sometimes they don’t have good reasons, which is probably why I started writing about panic attacks. Writing it out makes far more sense than the strange wash of emotion that overwhelms your head when you deal with anxiety.I've chipped away at this piece for awhile, waiting for the right time to share. And this is one of those times where most writers can relate to having a bit more anxiety, I think. I also wanted to open up this post with some honesty, because anxiety, creativity, and I have a funny relationship. I'm not alone there, as most artists, writers, and creative types report dealing with anxiety disorders and/or depression in some form. The world is messy, dark thing lately, and can be hard on those of us that feel 'too deeply'. The empathetic, gentle, and first to notice every detail in our world. It can be distracting, de-motivating, and tremendously difficult to overcome. Creating anything might be the last thing on your mind right now, but there is merit to giving the stress and inner darkness a little more voice. I speak from personal experience.

The first attacks started cropping up after I turned 18, but that anxiousness took different, intrusive forms over the years. My childhood was dotted with dark spaces; I grew up poor, and am a sexual assault survivor. My attacker never saw justice, or the therapist he was assigned, so I had to dodge him for years afterward. Bullying followed when I turned reclusive, and silence reigned as my experience turned to fear when I started dating. You never really outrun trauma, so I learned; you can only put more space between you and the harm it's done. There are bruises in my bones, but they fade with every year.

I hated talking about all of it- I hate talking about it to this day, but my fight had to go somewhere. My wars turned into something more creative and internal, if only to address the sheer, raw ball of anguish that often settled in the pit of my stomach.

Everyone has a story about why they started writing, or their default answer becomes “I was born to write.” I often discount the idea of being born to do something, but my connection with writing has always been my strongest response, after the therapists had gone and the noise remained too much. The place where my emotions made the most sense. I wrote as a direct response to hardship, and turned to the aforementioned poetry to vent. Sometimes I just open a Word document and spill out over the paper in honesty- I always ended up deleting those. I have used words, writing and reading alike, as a reflection for most of my life. A mirror from which I can better understand myself.

“Creative people don’t come from happiness,” a fellow writer once told me, in response to a conversation about rough childhoods. I think that is very true, in a certain light. Writers can be happy people by nature (like myself), but we have our axes to grind- some more than others. Some more than me. Everything I create feels like a step; I am lighter when I finish something, like I’ve untangled my insides a little. Heaven knows they won’t untangle themselves. When I started writing seriously in college, it was a response to reoccurring ideas: the moment where I said, "I'm gonna start doing this for real and write a novel!". But it also became a vehicle for energy and stress. Rather than struggling to balance writing and college, I have thrived in both. I made peace with myself and with my world, just a little.

The beautiful part about writing fiction is it eventually becomes your mirror anyway, showcasing honest sides of the author in a character trait, a sentence, and description just human enough that it couldn't be faked. Translating yourself under the guise of another world is any artist's ultimate goal; we love fanart, and fans, and entertaining the idea of fame on occasion, but truthfully, I think we all just desire to voice something in these struggles of silence. When your head fills with too much noise, clutter, and inky blackness, there is life behind the page.

There is freedom in knowing that you can relinquish it back into the world.

There is bravery in shedding light on the underbelly of a troubled world.​There is healing in the quiet spaces between you and your words.

I used “hate” in past tense since I have recently picked back up on the same batch of editing I dropped around this time last year. I gave a parting bow to my former host, Inkitt.com, and started writing the way I loved again. I was brought back from the dead, at last!

But I really hated writing for awhile. Last year, I got stuck exactly five chapters before my ending. The reasons started stacking onto each other: my grandfather had just passed away, my class life was plagued by an unstable professor who didn’t like me much, and generally (truthfully) discouragement had taken over. I had climbed very high in a few contests, only to lose a shot at a publishing deal twice over. My WIP novel, Chimehour, had done very well with early audiences and shown prowess. My odd little love letter to Irish folklore, history, and all the beautiful Victorian poetry I had grown up with. The one I had written with the intention of shoving it into a drawer. I couldn’t shake the feeling I needed to share it though; I could never get away from the idea that the book needed more eyes. So, one reader turned into twenty: one marketing idea turned into a thousand. The ball started rolling and I was gaining a small following before I really knew what to do.

Now, if I could just finish that book.

As 2016 rolled in, two things happened: first, I lost my last big contest and decided to fully remove Chimehour from the website. Second: I was approached by the site’s CEO to take on the role as Authors Community Manager, and I stopped removing Chimehour altogether. A long year has unraveled after that, which you can find in my previous blogs- here, here, and here. It was and remains one of the most unusual, crazy, and unique jobs I’ve ever had. I also didn’t write a whole lot while I worked for the Berlin-based company, but I learned some things about myself as a writer in its stead: I crept out of my bookish cave and saw the world with a little more clearly. Inkitt, I suspect, is the best thing that happened to me as a novice, and subsequently, leaving the company was also the best thing I’ve ever done as a novice. It all let me love my novel again, and there are a few reasons.

Letting in The Right Voices:

There’s a famous quote from Stephen King that I’ve always liked: “Write with the door closed, rewrite with the door open.” Everyone has an opinion when they read your work, and chances are, if you are writing, you book will end up being read. Some voices will not be the most positive. In Jeff VanderMeer’s Wonderbook, there is a section in which he discusses the wrong kind of early readers. The over-editors, nitpickers, and analyzers that wish more of their voice in a story than yours. When dealing with beta readers and early supporters, it’s important to surround yourself with the right voices. People who can support and critique equally without making you lose the heart of your story. People who you can message at 2am when scenes aren’t working, just to distract yourself. People who you can message at 2am who will promptly spam you with Shia Labeouf memes to get you started again. Other authors in particular are good for this, but I have my share of friends who just act as supportive ears. Honesty, compassion, and awareness of your usual authorly slacking can go a long way.

Accepting Endings Is Hard:

Endings are actually, in my personal opinion, the hardest part of any project. I am one to rush through them in every single first draft, and every time, I regret it because I end up rewriting 80%-90% of said ending by the third draft. Wrapping up a story of any kind is tricky, since you have to draw every curtain to a close and wrapping up every loose plot thread. It has taken upwards of eight drafts to accept that my ending just takes time to get right, and that is okay. This also means accepting the ending in the most literal sense: ending the story and moving on to something else. This part tends to give me trouble- I get attached to my projects easily and turn into one neurotic editor if I’m not careful. Both can become their own vice where you never finish anything. There is a sense of sadness that comes with closing a project out and letting go, but it’s important to know there will always be new novels, bigger dreams, and great stories to pursue.

Don’t Lose Heart, Just Make Space:

The most important lesson I gathered from this year about writing was about keeping heart and staying focused. The toughest part of long-term projects is the relationship you garner with them, and the ups and downs that come with such things. For writers, those downs can sometimes outweigh the ups, and slow spots in your work can feel like mountains of discouragement, too impossible to climb. Your work can suddenly feel like an enemy, rather than a close companion. This is often why I consider the year and a half I’ve taken away from editing/writing the healthiest thing I accidentally did for my novel. It gave me time away from the project, to think, feel, refuel, and recharge. It also gave the novel time away from me, where my words could settle without my tinkering and constant judgment. When we reunited, it was a much, much happier time, as the space I had created had re-allowed me to fall in love with my novel.

Chimehour currently stands with four chapters to re-edit, and a check from some very eager beta readers! I hope to have the novel out in the next year (for real), and hope to share the other books in the series soon after. It’s been a great, wild journey reconnecting with my work, and my only hope now is to share it back to the world in the way it deserves.

This week, I finished the editing, formatting, and final polish for my novella, "The Spectre and The Governess", a prequel to my much larger novel and the introduction to some of its major characters! A big thank you to all the people who helped edit and reviewed early; this book wouldn't have been finished without you! You can currently buy the e-book copy on Amazon (and I may do a giveaway at some point; keep you eyes peeled!) It's already reaching the Top 100 in Gothic fiction on Amazon, so whoop!

​Chimehour is next on the chopping block, and rest assured that it's close. I have the ending to complete and then the book goes off to my last round of beta readers for one more screening. I'm so eager to share the whole book with people, and cannot wait to start new projects! Thank you to everyone for being patient with me while I slowly but surely finish these books; it means so much. Here's hoping they don't disappoint!

​A few years back, I started a blog on Tumblr. Again. This was more or less my third try at consistent blogging; I had abandoned WordPress and a previous Tumblr URL because of sheer boredom. Because, for a writer, I’m a terrible blogger. I wanted a better place to talk about the process than a few vague blurbs on Facebook, even if it was to myself. My current Tumblr, “Faire Lady Penumbra,” has been my home since. The day I created the blog, I tag-lined myself “The Oddly Extroverted Novelist,” and hoped to change it later. To this day, this tag-line is what I get the most questions about.

“I’m an extroverted writer too! Do you have any tips for writing?”

“My friend doesn’t think there are extroverted writers out there…”

“How do you stay so organized? I’m outgoing and have such a hard time…”

I never did end up changing the line. Instead, I turned my platform into an open space to discuss personality and art. It's a somewhat overlooked realm of extroverted creative work, especially where writers are concerned. Novelists are considered solemn quiet creatures, locked away in offices with notebooks, coffee-stained clothes and typewriters that we will someday throw against walls in a fit of writer's block. The extroverted writer is treated as The Last Unicorn, an oddity to the outside world.

To be fair, I stick my notes to anything I can stick them to, but extroverted writers don't always align with stereotypes. We dwell in sunlit Starbucks corners and wander the streets in search of more stories. We haunt Twitter and Facebook, posting to our friends in lieu of creative dry spells. We are the verbal species of storyteller, forever ecstatic to share in some way. We bring our processes in a bag, unpacking it anywhere, forming habits and creating space in the middle of crowds. I personally love the sensation of writing at a cafe with headphones in. “I am alone, but not truly,” I tell people. “I have the power to create space. I can observe the world from my own window.” But I can write pretty much anywhere it strikes my fancy, from the comfort of my sofa to a bumpy bus ride through European mountains.

I suppose I don’t think myself fully extroverted—more of an introvert who plays an extrovert well. I have more novel ideas than close friends and have limits to how much socialization I can manage before I need to vanish back into my own worlds. I bounce back and forth between the world’s greatest socialite and ignoring my Facebook messages for days on end (apologies for that, friends). It’s a difficult process to explain, since I don’t necessarily need the company of others but I draw a lot of creative energy from it. There is a beautiful marriage between life and art. People are made of stories, and stories made by people. My characters are fueled by fires that I have seen in the eyes of others and by the wonderful quirks that make us so human.

Likewise, I am as much a night owl as I am a cafe dweller. There is solace in returning home with a day's worth of inspiration and spinning its magic through the night. I enjoy silence, in small doses at least, and make use of it as I organize my thoughts to better effect. Furthermore, some of my closest friendships have come from 3:00 a.m. conversations when I'm not writing. Other extroverted writers I know have their own habits and rituals. Some of us keep more presence while we write, sharing process through the window of social media. Some of us shut away our work until the time is right. All of us are usually up at 3:00 a.m., chatting away before we settle back into our scenes and return to work.​So, here's to the extroverted writers. We're not so different from our introverted counterparts in what we do. To the wandering, expressive and outgoing among us. A little different in our energy and style, but drawing from the same world and interpreting it with the same gusto. Really, we are, all of us, writers first and foremost.